The Screwball and The Hunter
by PlutoPoltergeist
Summary: Atlantis Complex. Artemis is shipped off to Arkham when he displays rather erratic behavior. Just in time for a new superhero and a fresh hoard of crazies who all want this genius on their side. But Artemis doesn't take sides. Orion it pretty fond of Batman, though. Say hello to the Screwball and the Hunter. Yep, Gotham's doomed. Eventual Artemis/Batman. Slash if you're stupid.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Batman belongs to DC, Artemis Fowl belongs to Eoin Colfer. I own neither jack nor shit. Enjoy.**

**Arkham Asylum**

Artemis Fowl sat, a regal air about him, in the white, plastic chair. He was expressionless, as was the norm, and he drummed his fingers against the plastic tabletop. Each one of his five fingers, five times, on his left hand. Then he would pause. Repeat.

Across the table was another chair, and the wall to Artemis's left was a mirror. The rest were padded.

Artemis knew quite well that the mirror a one-way mirror, and that there were most likely cameras hidden in the ceiling, but he pretended to be unaware. The intelligent were, more often than not, considered completely insane. And he was not in a good place to be insane. He'd researched Arkham Asylum for the Criminally Insane before. From what he'd read, this was not where people went to regain sanity. Arkham was to madmen what a brewery was to an alcoholic. This was where madness was born and raised.

The door opened and a man in a white coat entered. According to his name-tag, he was 'Doctor Crane'. He sat in the other chair and greeted Artemis with a friendly smile. A smile that the boy genius refused to return.

"Good morning, Artemis – I can call you Artemis, can't I? How are you?" Crane stared, tapping his clipboard with his index finger.

"To begin, Doctor Crane: No. You may not call me Artemis. Secondly, I am fine," Artemis said silkily, ceasing his finger tapping.

Crane's smile looked rather fixed now. "Mister Fowl-"

"That would be 'Master' Fowl, Doctor Crane. If you insist on using formal titles, please use the proper ones."

Artemis was quite pleased with the fixed smile on Crane's face. _I shall drive him insane by next Tuesday, _decided Artemis. Thus far, he was not particularly thrilled with Crane. Doctor Poe was, by a landslide, far more entertaining.

"Master Fowl. Do you know why you're here?" asked Crane, taking a ballpoint pen from behind his ears and clicking it into gear.

"Of course," Artemis said. "I am here because my mother firmly believes that I am criminally insane. That is a completely ridiculous assumption, if I do say so myself. I am neither a criminal, nor insane."

_Interesting, _mused Artemis, _I am in a padded room with a psychiatrist and I don't even have to lie. How times have changed._

Crane blathered on, "Well, even if you're not a criminally insane teenager, you're dear mother seems to think so. Let's put her mind to rest, shall we? Just a few questions to see how crazy you are. Not that I'm saying you are, _Master_ Fowl, but we have regulations. Guidelines and such. We have to be sure."

Artemis sighed. Crane spoke the word 'master' as if it were a vulgar curse. "A few questions, is it? Let's get on with it, then."

Crane and his fixed smile. If Butler were around, Artemis would have given to order to have his neck snapped. "Okay, to start things off – have you ever committed a crime?" asked Crane.

Artemis acted as if the very concept was offending. "Commit a crime? Me? Certainly not! I've never broken a law in my life," Artemis said.

Crane nodded and jotted something down on his clipboard. "Interesting." He flipped the papers. "That's a little strange, you know. You family seems to have a long history of crime."

"Doctor Crane, any and all accusations towards me or my family are purely conjectures. We are classy, slightly-antisocial people. But criminals? Please," Artemis said. Crane 'hmmed' as he jotted away.

"Have you found yourself any less trusting lately? Has anyone mentioned you being out of character?" Crane inquired.

"Yes," nodded Artemis, "my mother thinks I'm insane. Can you believe that? Had me shipped off to this wretched asylum in America and everything!"

Crane smiled. Artemis admired his self-control. The only signs of actual impatience Crane displayed was the stressing of tendons in his forearms, and the way he gripped his pen the tiniest bit more. Artemis would have fun introducing Doctor Crane to his future therapist. Maybe he could have him and Doctor Poe in touch? Now _that_ would be hilarious.

_Then again, they might breed, _mused Artemis. He shuddered inwardly at the thought.

"Mothers, huh?" grinned Crane. "Moving on. Master Fowl, Artemis, my boy... have you any fears?"

"Fears?" parroted Artemis. "Why, of course I have fears. Right now I fear this questionable security will give a psychopath an opening, and I shall be killed in a slow, painful manner, hundreds of miles away from home - in an madhouse, no less. Also, spiders. You're a fool if you're not afraid of spiders."

Artemis was surprised that Crane didn't try to stab him in the neck with his pen. "Thank you, Master Fowl," he said, standing up and striding towards the exit. "That will be all. I shall see you... next Tuesday, hm?"

"Tuesday," Artemis said, making the word sound like a very believable death threat. "I shall look forward to it."


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: Artemis Fowl is Eoin Colfer's and Batman is DC's. Now read.**

Doctor Crane visited Artemis often. Sometimes twice a day, but usually ever other day. Artemis thought their sessions were extremely tedious and far from productive, but at least it was fun to trick Crane into thinking he was making progress. It was hilarious, actually, seeing the satisfaction glinting the the doctors eyes and knowing it was all foolery. Classic.

Artemis quickly noted a theme – fear. He had to applaud Crane's ability to inquire about his fears and phobias so indirectly. If Artemis wasn't as smart as he was, he might have fallen for Crane's tricks. But he always caught it, the distasteful, yet illusive, way Crane's questions were worded to invoke the topic.

_He's smart, _Artemis admitted to himself after one session, _but, at the days end, when all is said and done, I'm smarter._

Life at Arkham was a pain, honestly. Apparently, something about his behavior called for a straightjacket. Luckily, Artemis once had a slight obsession with Harry Houdini in his youth, and knew for a fact he could wriggle out of one, should the need arise. But the food – _great Frond, the food – _was positively disgusting. Artemis was used to quality caviar, along with other delicacies. The sludge the patients were fed gave Artemis an idea of why people seemed to go madder here.

The patients themselves were a nightmare. Just the sight of them made Artemis wish more than anything that he had Butler looming over his shoulder. They didn't pay him any heed, really, but the way they looked – the circles under their eyes, the way their eyes twitched, the way they clenched and unclenched their fists, as if they were filled to the brim with brutal rage – set him on edge. What did they want? Why were they in an asylum for the _criminally _insane? Had they killed people before?

_Do they want to kill me?_

The day that thought crossed Artemis's glorious mind was a Thursday (to his regret, Crane had not gone bonkers by Tuesday. Maybe next time), just after eight thirty in the morning. Artemis had been awake for hours, and had just choked down as much of his sludge – er, sorry, _food – _as he could. Meal done, he'd been left to his thoughts.

_I'm slipping, _Artemis thought after he'd realized what had crossed his mind. _Crane has been instilling fear into my subconscious. _The thought, simply put, ticked him off. Thrown into a madhouse, treated like a lunatic, and fed sludge – he could deal with it. But planting a subconscious fear of being strangled to death by his fellow patients was just mean. This called for drastic measures, and cruel punishments.

His desire to drive Crane mad by Tuesday was purely amusement. This was a personal offense. And when you offended Artemis Fowl personally, the consequences were personal. Very personal.

Artemis leaned back in his cell and thought: what was something Crane held dear? What was his passion? What could Artemis break in a slow, humiliating manner?

Fear. Artemis, despite himself, smiled his devious, cruel smile.

Fear. Fear, fear, fear, fear...

Jonathan Crane entered Artemis Fowl's cell, seeing the youth lounging on his bed, with an annoyingly superior aura about him, awaiting his arrival like the past times he'd come to see him.

Artemis Fowl was obnoxious, sarcastic, and egotistical on a previously-unknown level. But, despite his faults, he was extremely clever. The first few sessions, Crane didn't even realize that Artemis was making him look like an idiot.

He'd been a fool to doubt the eyes.

Well, he'd never make that mistake again. The eyes had ordered him to find Artemis's weaknesses, and he had no intention of failing the eyes. The warm, persuasive, and understanding eyes. And so beautiful...

Artemis Fowl was smart. He knew what Crane wanted from him – his fears – and the doctor could not extract the answers he craved with conventional methods. That was why he brought his tools, provided by the eyes, and arranged neatly in his briefcase.

Crane smiled fixedly at his patient, who smiled back with equal reluctance. "Good to see you, Artemis," Crane said, placing his briefcase by the door and approaching the plastic chair that had unofficially become his. "How are we today?"

"Well," said Artemis daintily, mocking deep thought, "I am doing just fine today. But I'm not sure about this other person, who you seem to addressing, as well as I."

Two or three good hits. He could be dead.

But no! The eyes – the eyes wanted him alive...

… But surely they'd understand a broken rib or two?

"Artemis, my friend," Crane began, "I think I've found the root of your insanity."

"Forgive me, Doctor, but, I _beg_ a million pardons. What, prithee, insanity are you referring to?" the Irish teen demanded politely.

Crane ignored him, introductions concluded, to get his briefcase. He returned to the chair and popped it open, balancing it on his lap. The items within made his heart flutter giddily.

His burlap mask, and several doses of the drug. All provided by the eyes with his instructions, of course. He recalled silky, honey-covered words the eyes had spoken: "_Find his fears, dear Jon. I want him alive and... breakable."_

He would please them. He would. He would!

_He's a nut._ The realization hit Artemis like a bullet in the back.

He was actually quite surprised he hadn't noticed earlier. The obsession with fear, coupled with that... look in his eye.

Just a look wasn't a lot to go on, but Artemis had seen insanity aplenty since coming to Arkham. He knew what it looked like, better than he was comfortable with.

"I have a treatment," Crane said, retrieving a tiny plastic bag of white powder from the case. "A does or two of this, and you'll be all better. Completely recovered."

"If I were to recover, I'd need something to recover from," Artemis stated flatly.

_Shut up. Don't bombard him with observations. Manipulate him, make him go. Make him go. Make him-!_

_Enough, _Artemis interrupted himself firmly. _Manipulation is a good idea, but I need more to go on than his obsession with fear._

Artemis opened his mouth to try and extract some personal information from Crane, but found himself choking on the white powder. It stung his eyes and clogged his throat, making him cough dryly and uncontrollably.

After gathering himself, the world was not all Artemis had previously known it to be.

Things were oddly... distorted. The walls seemed longer, taller, and slightly curved. Since when was the ceiling so high up?

And... were those fours?

They floated about the room, and were of all different sizes and colors. Each one seemed to leer mockingly at him. The sight of them seemed to stab him in the heart, instilling icy venom into it that was pumped through his whole body with each beat.

Not that it mattered, as he felt as if his heart had ceased to beat. Fear gripped him, squeezing his muscles and stressing his tendons. There was a lump in his throat and his mouth at gone dangerously dry. Logical sense escaped him. If he moved, they would get him. He couldn't have that.

_Crane drugged you. This is a hallucination, _his sensible side chided to him.

_They are after you, _stated his human half.

_They are after you. _Four letters.

And suddenly, Artemis was screaming.


End file.
